


some little birdie

by thisstableground



Series: girlsnavi AU [1]
Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: (vansnavi is endgame), Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, F/F, girl usnavi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisstableground/pseuds/thisstableground
Summary: Vanessa finds her colors.[for the prompt: Vanessa realizing she likes girls, set in my girlsnavi verse, takes place roughly between 18-6 months pre-canon]





	some little birdie

**Author's Note:**

> [a/n: this. got out of hand. but i love vanessa and im hugely gay for her so 11k later here we are. also, wanna be clear: there’s conversations around both vanessa and usnavi and how neither of them are into their respective best friends romantical-styles. that’s no shade at all to nina/vanessa or benny/usnavi shippers, you do your thing! i dont want it to seem like i’m over here being snide about other people’s ships. just, these specific versions of those characters are not into each other and it’s reflected in their conversations.]

The first girl Vanessa ever kisses is Nina, when they’re both eighteen, and it’s underwhelming.

About three months after Nina comes out to her parents as pansexual (Vanessa has known for a lot longer), Usnavi from the bodega sticks a second flag next to her DR one on the cash register: three stripes, pink, purple, blue. Nina says it’s the bisexual flag and that she’s been talking to Usnavi about it for a while now, helping her figure things out.

“So Usnavi’s bi and you’re pan?” Vanessa asks, to clarify. “What’s the difference?” 

“Depends who you ask,” Nina says, sitting up on her bed and putting a pillow in her lap to prop her elbows on. “For us two specifically, not much. I actually think Usnavi mostly just likes the bi flag more and that’s why she went with that. We both like all genders. Or lack of.”

“Huh. Okay then. Hey, what would the straight flag be? If we needed one, I know we don’t.”

“Umm…well, there have been a few Straight Pride assholes that used stick figures of a man and a woman holding hands as a symbol. You know, the ones that look like the people on the signs they have on bathroom doors?”

“Ew,” Vanessa says. “Wish I liked girls so I could have a cute flag instead of toilet flag.”

“Never too late to try."

“I dunno. Sometimes I thought maybe, but then like, maybe they’re just pretty friends who I’m appreciating aesthetically, and I’ve never gone any deeper than that. How did you figure out you were?”

“Made out with a girl,” Nina says. “I suspected before that but that’s what really gave it away. Wanna try?”

She winks and does a finger-gun, they both laugh. Then there’s a sudden, weighted silence that Vanessa’s never had with Nina before.

“Uh, I was, that was a very bad joke,” Nina says. She still sometimes acts like she's worried Vanessa's gonna get uncomfortable around her now evn though they've always made jokes like that. “Sorry. I know you’re not into that, I was kidding.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I know,” Vanessa says. She looks down at her hands. “But. It…could also be interesting, possibly?”

“Uhhhh,” Nina says, sounding panicked, but she doesn’t move away from where her leg’s touching Vanessa’s. “I don’t—I wouldn’t wanna, y’know, you’ve been really cool about stuff and I don’t want you to think I’m just…waiting to pounce, or that I’ve got a secret crush or something, because that’s not—“

“I don’t think that,” Vanessa says. “And, uh, I was just—I wouldn’t want you to think I was just using you to experiment, or. You know what, forget it, I was kidding too! Unless. Uh. Unless you weren’t?”

“I mean,” Nina says, very thoughtfully, with a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s just one kiss, right?”

“Yeah,” Vanessa says, finds herself leaning forward, brushing Nina’s curls behind her ear and letting her hand rest there. “One kiss can’t hurt. For research.”

“Oh, well, if it’s for _research,_ ” Nina murmurs. Vanessa can feel Nina’s breath against her skin, and then Nina’s lips, one quick closed-mouth kiss and then a second, lingering, and as she closes her eyes and opens her mouth, Nina’s tongue sliding against hers. She doesn’t really feel much else, like, in herself.

Then Nina bursts out laughing so hard she nearly bites Vanessa’s tongue and rolls away with her hands over her face.

“That’s not usually the reaction I get,” Vanessa says.

“Sorry,” Nina sputters. “Sorry, no offence, but that was _so weird,_ I cannot. _"_

“Yeah, I don’t think you turned me,” Vanessa agrees. They look away from each other, faintly embarrassed, then catch eyes and start giggling again. “Okay, so we’ll never do that again. Either you’re just a really bad kisser or I’m probably straight.”

“Oh, definitely the last one. I’m a _great_ kisser,” Nina says, and thank god, it doesn’t feel awkward, just kinda funny, and at least Vanessa can say now she tried the girls thing and knows for sure it’s not her jam.

***

Vanessa’s twenty-one and hasn’t contemplated kissing a girl since that attempt with Nina. 

She’s kissed a fair few boys, and more than that. She hasn’t dated any of them. Vanessa doesn’t do dating. Boys are hot, and some of them are pretty fun, and even though she only goes for casual she tries to pick out ones who are interesting and definitely ones who have some respect for her. Unfortunately this occasionally leads to them trying to step things up to a _you’re awesome lets hang out_ level which there’s really no need for.

Vanessa already has people to hang out with. She’s happy spending social time with Nina, with the girls at the salon, with Usnavi at the bodega when she needs her caffeine fix. Maybe just because she doesn’t feel all ogled and objectified, or maybe when it comes to actual emotional attachments she’s pretty full up on the friends front. And people are just so fucking annoying sometimes. It’s a struggle being an extrovert when everyone is terrible.

Generally she’s pretty happy to bump into people at the club, though: more dancing, less having to be involved in their gross messy personal lives.

At this particular moment, she’s not all that happy to bump into Yolanda from the gym, only because she means it pretty literally: It's crowded in here, Yolanda spins too enthusiastically and ends up knocking Vanessa’s mostly-full drink all over her dress.

“Oh! Mierda! Lo siento, lo siento,” Yolanda gasps. “Vamos, vamos, debemos limpiar esto.”

“No, it's cool, really, ’ta bien,” Vanessa says, but Yolanda’s already grabbed her and drags her to the bathroom to shove handfuls of paper towels at her, looking so frantic and apologetic that Vanessa starts finding it funny. They both end up laughing while Yolanda pats paper towels over Vanessa’s face like she’s covered head to toe instead of just the little patch on her dress.

“Lo siento,” Yolanda repeats for the millionth time, and smiles brightly. “I will buy other drink for you?”

“Oh, no, no…weeell, sí. De acuerdo, gracias.”

Vanessa usually only accepts drinks from people who she definitely plans to sleep with, but thats because guys can get real mad about it if you take the drink then don’t fuck them.But Yolanda’s different, she knows Vanessa and she’s a girl. They do end up spending most of the evening with each other and even though theres plenty of guys who try and get in and she’d come here with an intention of getting laid, Vanessa’s actually pretty happy just dancing with Yolanda tonight. She’s fun, and a great dancer, and they switch between her leading and Vanessa leading which keeps things interesting. 

And the same thing happens next time they’re both at the club. The one after that, too. Vanessa knows Yolanda’s gay, and she’s not arrogant enough to assume all gay girls want her but after enough nights she knows she’s not imagining that after a few drinks Yolanda looks at Vanessa the way some guys do: not the creepy leering way, but definitely interested. Wanting. 

And Vanessa finds she doesn’t mind at all.

Uh, so, what exactly does _that_ mean, ¿por favor?

Probably nothing, right? It probably also means nothing that they sometimes end up dancing so close their hips are pressed together, or that Vanessa gets shivers when Yolanda leans in so close to talk to her over the loud music. It probably means nothing when Yolanda asks if Vanessa wants to go to this other club she knows next time.

Vanessa is both surprised and not at all surprised when the other place ends up being a place called Bar Envy up in Inwood, with telltale rainbow flags draped all through the entrance hallway. She reasons with herself that she’s come to gay clubs before once or twice with Nina and it’s a chance to get their dance on without creeps hitting on them. The music’s decent, the atmosphere is pretty laid back. It’s Vanessa’s turn to buy them both drinks, and they’ve barely finished their second when Yolanda asks if Vanessa wants to get out of there, talking low into Vanessa’s ear with her hand at the nape of her neck.

It’s got a built-in escape button: she could play dumb to Yolanda and say _we’ve only been out an hour_ and that would end whatever this might be _._ Instead, she plays dumb to herself: says yes and pretends she thinks they’re going to another club, and pretends she wasn’t expecting it when they end up in a cab headed to Yolanda’s place instead. Yolanda’s hand is high up on Vanessa’s thigh the whole ride home, fingertips resting on the bare skin just underneath her dress.

Vanessa’s nervous. She hasn’t been nervous going home with someone in a long time. Usually she knows what to expect, but as Yolanda leads her by the hand up the stairs Vanessa’s expecting so many conflicting things that it somehow turns into expecting nothing at all, like maybe she super misread it and she really is just coming here to have post-club drinks and crash on the couch.

Obviously not. They don’t even get to the bedroom. Yolanda kisses her in the living room and it’s nothing at all like that time she kissed Nina all hesitant and slow, it’s bruisingly intense, Yolanda tasting like lipstick and an alcohol sharpness. They fall together down onto the couch, their legs twisting around each other, and part of her is going _hi, ‘scuse me, this is a girl, what in the whole hell are you doing, Vanessa_ but most of her is just going _this is so hot, this is so hot,_ as Yolanda pulls her dress off and now Vanessa's there nearly naked with a very good-looking girl grinding up against her.

It’s different. It’s Vanessa’s first time doing anything like this. Definitely not Yolanda’s: she works her hand inside Vanessa’s underwear and either she’s got some kind of magic powers or Vanessa’s just already unbearably turned on from the anticipation because she gets her off in about two minutes flat. It’s different how she keeps going instead of moving right on to penetration, not the one-for-you one-for-me of most of Vanessa’s experiences with men, slower, softer, rolling Vanessa to a second less overwhelming but more drawn-out climax. It’s different when Vanessa kisses Yolanda’s stomach, pressing her tongue against the little diamond piercing in her navel then going down further. She can figure out her way around this without needing a map, she’s not nervous about the technicalities, but usually she doesn’t do this first time she’s with someone. Vanessa’s got nothing against giving dudes blowjobs but she’s picky about who she does it with, because she doesn’t like it with those guys who push on the back of her head or who think it’s hot to call her dirty names without asking if she’s cool with it, which she ain’t _. S_ he only likes it with the ones who gasp and whimper and say _yes, god, please_ and who let her be in control.

It’s different, but at the same time, not nearly as different as she expected, disoriented but not out of her depth: Yolanda pushes Vanessa’s head so her face is fully buried between her legs, but she says _sí, bonita, tan bien, tan bien_ in a sweetly rough voice and makes pitchy, satisfied cooing sounds and wriggles around ecstatically. Vanessa doesn’t feel entirely in control, but she doesn’t feel controlled either. 

She feels…pretty fucking amazing, really.

***

The next morning Vanessa wakes up on Yolanda’s couch, naked underneath the blanket covering her. She doesn’t remember falling asleep. She doesn’t remember how many times she came last night. It was definitely a lot.

Holy shit. She had sex with a _girl_. And she _really liked it._

This is something she should probably deal with, emotionally-speaking. Or, she reasons, or she could blame it on alcohol. _I only had a couple of drinks_ , her traitorous brain says, _I definitely wasn’t drunk by the time we got back here._

Well, fuck reality and her brain, because she’s decided that actually she definitely was. No regrets, but it was obviously just an alcohol-fuelled night of experimentation and nothing complicated so once she’s got her clothes on and gone home and taken a shower she doesn’t need to bother thinking about What This Means or How I Feel About It or Am I Gay Now.

She’s just got her dress on and is looking for wherever the rest of her clothes ended up, jumps when she straightens up with her bra in hand to find Yolanda standing right behind her, in a big t-shirt with last night’s smoky eye smudging down her face.

“Buenos dias, bonita,” she says, both hands on Vanessa’s hips. “You are leaving?”

“Oh, uh, I was just, you know,” Vanessa says.

“Pero, we will have breakfast?” Yolanda says slowly, uncertain in her english. Her hands are far more confident, slipping down, pushing up the skirt of Vanessa’s dress. “O….algo más?”

There’ll be no _I was drunk_ excuse if Vanessa does this in the light of day. And Vanessa doesn’t do morning-after reruns, Vanessa doesn’t do morning afters at all. Gone before the sunrise. But there are parts of her currently much louder than her brain saying _‘or something else’ sounds very good._

Maybe she can stay a little longer.

***

Yolanda had asked over breakfast if that was her first time with a woman, and Vanessa said yes. Yolanda had been understanding, sweet even, when Vanessa asked her not to tell anyone. She’s not ashamed, but she doesn’t need everyone else in her business before she even gets her shoes back on, y’know?

This doesn’t feel like the kind of thing a straight girl does, if she’s being honest with herself.

It also felt good, if she’s even more honest, and not just because the sex was incredible.

They spent all morning together. That’s the first time it’s ever happened. Had sex, stayed the night, got eaten out in the morning, had breakfast, watched a movie while they fingered each other on the couch. Then she’d borrowed a change of clothes - now _there’s_ a perk of sleeping with a girl with a similar physique that Vanessa had never even considered before, no walk of shame for her today - and knows that the promise to return them also implies _and when I do, we’ll do this again._

Is it girls, or just Yolanda?

Her head feels like its about to explode. She’d almost be grateful for a hangover in comparison. What she means to do when she gets home is google some stuff about sexuality, or maybe talk to Nina, or put this very firmly in a box in the back of her mind because it seems way more complicated than anything she’s used to dealing with and avoidance is always the best medicine.

What she actually does is lie on her bed and think about how she’s wearing a borrowed pair of Yolanda’s panties, and about how she’s pretty sure she gave her the sexy red lace ones on purpose. She thinks about how they match the shade of Yolanda’s red lipstick last night, she thinks about Yolanda’s soft hands and soft mouth, then she rummages through her underwear drawer to find her vibrator and writes the rest of the day off completely.

***

Nights with Yolanda become a regular thing. Dancing at Bar Envy, trying to keep their hands to themselves in the cab on the way home, all night together, fuckin…Orgasm Central, Vanessa’s pretty sure she’s tripping balls on endorphins all day every day.

She doesn’t tell anyone. Yolanda doesn’t seem to mind that at all, says she remembers being in the early stages of things and true to her word, it seems like nobody finds out. It feels so glaringly obvious to Vanessa on the inside that she thinks she may as well have written I EAT PUSSY 24/7/365 across her face in sharpie but since nobody says anything and most of the people she knows aren’t exactly the don’t ask questions type she figures that somehow they haven’t noticed yet.

It comes as a surprise that word doesn’t spread when they go to Bar Envy so many times, especially since Yolanda’s out in general. There’s an understanding, Yolanda tells her. Even if you see someone you hate at the club, there’s an understanding that you don’t tell anyone outside of it, because you don’t know their situation. Most people stick to it.

It’s solidarity, Vanessa realises, and also realises with a shock that now this solidarity extends to her. She’s keeping the secret that all of them have kept in some way at some point.

She walks past the rainbow flag adorning the entrance of the club and tries to imagine it as her own. She feels like she’s stealing it every time she does.

The Rosarios have a PR flag on their fire escape. Usnavi De la Vega has a DR one on hers. Vanessa is a proud Puerto Rican even though there’s no flag on her fire escape, and that pride is something she learned more from the community than from her mother. It’s the one thing she loves about being stuck in this shitty neighborhood her whole life: even now she sometimes doubts the PR colors she holds in her heart, so many things she’s told a latin family should be that never was a truth she lived, an island she’s never seen, but it’s easier to feel her flag when she lives surrounded by people who know how to fly it loud and lovely.

Vanessa is also a quarter Chinese on her father’s side, has never met her Chinese family, wasn’t raised with any of their customs or traditions. She often wonders if that’s really something that belongs to her too when she knows so little about it, when most people wouldn’t even know unless she tells them herself. 

So she’s always wrestled with this kind of questioning. Even if the shape of it is different this time, it's just another stone to add to that weight: how do you belong to something you weren’t raised with, though it’s undeniably a part of yourself? How much of it are you allowed to claim when you don’t even really know what it _means_?

Vanessa spent twenty-one years thinking of herself as straight, and now, every night she’s not at Yolanda’s, she sits up into the early hours illuminated by her laptop in incognito mode, scrolling pictures of pink-yellow-blue and pink-purple-blue and red through pink through white, and wonders if any of them are hers, or if she’s just faking it, or if what she’s doing even counts if she doesn’t tell anyone about it. 

Nobody else knows. Even Nina can’t tell just from looking at her. She’s just sleeping with a woman. She’s just kissing a woman and dancing with her and waking up in bed with her. She doesn’t know what that means.

***

Nights become a regular thing, but somehow so do days. Staying in Yolanda’s apartment all day (they never go to Vanessa’s, for obvious reasons. Yolanda lives alone. She’s so lucky). Going out for dinner or coffee sometimes. Laying on the couch together watching a movie without sex needing to get involved. It goes on for another month, then another.

Vanessa realises, perhaps a lot later than she should, that this might be what most people consider “dating”. Someone you can hang out with as a friend and then later on in the evening you can both take off your pants and fall into bed together and mess up the sheets or just sleep next to each other. 

Is that really all there is to it? It seems weird that this seemed complicated to her, back when she was just with guys. It seems weird that it was scary. Maybe she’s missing something. She keeps waiting for the penny to drop, and the longer it takes the more confused she gets.

Somehow, people still can’t tell. Well, Nina’s given her some shrewd looks and pointed _so you and Yolanda sure are hanging out a lot_ s and Vanessa keeps meaning to tell her the truth of it because if anyone’s gonna be understanding it’s obviously gonna be Nina. Something always stops her. She just says “Yolanda’s good company” and changes the subject.

She feels like the first person to have discovered any of this shit. She feels like she wants to keep it for herself so the good parts don't get ruined and the bad parts don't reveal too much of her.

“Gracias,” she says out of nowhere to Yolanda, lazing in bed one morning after what Vanessa would classify as a top-ten bang. Definitely deserves a medal of some kind. She’s tingling in places she never even knew she had nerve endings.

“Para que?”

“Para que…todo esto.” She rolls to face the other way, so she doesn’t have to look her in the eye. Yolanda kisses her shoulder. Vanessa feels something strange and soft and sweet, and she thinks perhaps it feels like pink-purple-blue.

***

Three weeks later, she’s walking down Yolanda’s street on the way home from the bank and figures since she’s in the area she might as well call round and see if she can get some Saturday morning fun. Yolanda answers the door, flushed, leaning around it clearly not fully dressed with a surprised “oh! Vanessa! Ah…” 

There’s the sound of that penny dropping, loud as thunder. Vanessa’s not stupid. There’s not a flag for the colour she feels right now, red like a fire and black like a void both existing in the same space.

“Someone’s in there with you, right?” she says tonelessly. If Yolanda doesn’t understand the words directly she certainly catches the atmosphere.

“Um,” she says.

“…So I’m just gonna go,” Vanessa says, because this isn’t a conversation she wants to have, now or ever.

She gets halfway down the stairs before Yolanda catches up to her, in a short bathrobe hastily wrapped around herself. Her long legs are bare underneath it.

“Vanessa, por favor, no es lo que piensas,” Yolanda says. “Una amiga. She is just a friend.”

“Oh, sure. And did your ‘friend’ give you this?” Vanessa says sourly, pointing at the faint lipstick-marked kiss on Yolanda’s neck. This conversation would be easier for Yolanda in Spanish. Vanessa refuses to make it easy for her. 

Yolanda scrubs at her neck with her hand while she struggles to find a reasonable explanation and eventually says, “we did not say we will not be with others. I thought you knew.”

Vanessa thinks of a thousand arguments she could make: _if you really thought I knew why did you try and lie, how long has this been happening, how could you?_

“Don’t call me,” she says, and leaves Yolanda standing in the hallway behind her. She makes sure to flip both middle fingers over her shoulder as she walks away.

_***_

It’s Kevin who answers the door at the Rosarios, because Vanessa is straight-up cursed. Kevin doesn’t like her much at the best of times and she’s in no mood to try and play It’s Me Your Daughters Respectable Friend today.

“S’Nina in?” she mutters. There’s no hiding that she’s about to cry.

“Nina! Vanessa is here!” Kevin calls. “Are you…okay?”

“M’fine."

Kevin hovers hesitantly for a moment then clearly decides that asking any more about it would be a hellish experience for them both, which is good instinct on his part. “Just go through. She probably has music on.”

Nina doesn’t answer at her knock so Vanessa lets herself in and Nina’s at her computer nodding slightly to a beat with her headphones on. She pulls them down around her neck when she sees the door open.

“Hey Vanessa, what’s up!” she says, then sees Vanessa’s face. “Oh, _shit_ , what’s wrong?”

“Wnnwithyolandnifndwrrrl,” Vanessa warbles tearfully, closing the door behind her.

“…Say again in a human language?”

So she does, even though she’s fully fucking crying now and it’s stupid and embarrassing and this whole thing’s stupid and embarrassing, but she explains everything, Yolanda and club and the first night and all the other nights up till today, Yolanda with some other girl’s lipstick on her and lying right to Vanessa’s face.

Nina stays quiet and wide-eyed until Vanessa finishes with “and she told me we’d never agreed to like, be monogamous but I thought—ugh. Well, whatever I thought was clearly wrong and now we’re done, so that was the biggest waste of my fucking time. _”_

She wipes her eyes angrily, because it’s not fair that she’s crying or that she’s upset, this is _bullshit_. She’s not told anyone about this for ages and now that she is she’s just having to talk about how naive she was to assume that things would be different, like she thought girl-girl relationships are immune to cheating or miscommunication or something, instead of being able to tell Nina about all the good feelings.

Nina deliberates a response for a long time and finally says, “huh, so I guess that kiss did turn you after all.”

It catches Vanessa off-guard, and she laughs. “Yep, that musta been it. Just took a couple years to kick in.”

“Wow,” Nina says. “So you and Yolanda…I mean, I kinda suspected. But still, wow. Uh, welcome to the club, I guess? Sorry your first shot crashed and burned so hard.”

“Right? So now I’m just a dumbass who thought I was dating someone for three goddamn months when we were only fucking, guess I’ll just never date again, problem solved. Whew! Okay, I feel better, thanks Nina, we don’t need to talk about this any more ever.”

“You’re not a dumbass for having feelings about someone, Vanessa,” Nina tells her gently.

_”Feelings? Ha!_ I ain’t come to you for that kinda sentimental bullshit, Rosario.”

“This is new for you. You liked someone, turns out she’s a bitch, it happens. That doesn’t mean you were wrong to like her, or that you’re not whatever you decided to identify as.”

“Maybe I’m being unfair,” Vanessa says, avoiding the identity question entirely. “She’s right, we didn’t agree to be exclusive or make anything official, I just assumed… shit, maybe she’s poly, thats a thing, ain’t it? I been reading a lot.”

“It’s only polyamory when everyone involved knows about it,” Nina says. “Otherwise it’s just lying. She woulda told you if she hadn’t thought she was doing something wrong.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Vanessa says, raising her arms up like _vindicated!_ Though Nina’s probably biased but you know what, Vanessa will take it anyway.

“And at the very least she should have told you so you knew if you need to use protection—“

“Disculpe ¿qué?” Vanessa says. “But we’re girls?”

Nina gives her a startled look. “I thought you said you’ve been reading? Like, please tell me I don’t have to tell you that preventing pregnancy isn’t the only reason to use protection?

“But…we’re _girls_ ,” Vanessa says helplessly. 

“Okay,” Nina says in a very calm and reassuring way. “You all done crying? Yes? Good, get up, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Fun day trip,” Nina says. “To the clinic. Don’t say I never take you anywhere nice.”

“This is shaping up to be a _really_ great day,” Vanessa says, standing. “I got kinda-cheated on and now I probably got chlamydia. Awesome. Rad. Just the best.”

“I’m not saying you’ve definitely got something. But if you get checked now it won’t be a problem later and you can wallow in your gay heartbreak without any distracting rashes.”

“Ugh, I hate that you’re right. But thanks for. Y’know. Emotional support and shit,” then very quickly to get it over with. “Iloveyou.”

“Love you too, V.”

“Uh. In a friend way, just so we’re clear. Even though I’m a whatever now.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

***

Shockingly, having to go for an unexpected STD test hasn’t brightened Vanessa’s day any, nor has Nina not-so-subtly taking several pamphlets out of the waiting room of the clinic and slipping them into Vanessa’s bag like she’s dumb enough to make the same mistake twice, but she’s decided since she’s clearly not gonna feel better any time soon, she’s at least going to feel _angry._

“The worst of it is,” she rants as they make their way back down their street, “The worst of it _is_ that even if she has gave me tuberculosis of the vaj I can’t spread a vicious rumor about it without outing myself, so thanks a fucking ton, _Yolanda_ , you giant herpes-snake.”

“Would you really spread that rumor? Don’t get me wrong, I wish a plague on her house and all that, but she might not even know the risks. You didn’t.”

“Yes I absolutely would,” Vanessa says stubbornly, then sighs. “Fine, no, probably not, but a girl can dream of petty revenge. Hold up, can we stop here, I’m in major need of some fucking coffee.”

She indicates inside the bodega as they’re passing by the window.

“Yeah, all that peeing in jars must really dehydrate you,” Nina says, then yells, “hey, Usnavi!” as they go in.

“Yo, Nina!” comes a slightly breathless response. Usnavi emerges from the aisles, carrying a large cat that clearly isn’t happy about its current situation. “Oh! And Vanessa! Sorry, with you in a minute, I got me a fluffy lil intruder that needs to leave before Sonny comes on shift and has an allergy attack all over my nice clean store. Again.”

“They wouldn’t keep coming in if you didn’t keep feeding them, you know,” Nina says.

“I can’t just ignore them! They look so sad and hungry,” Usnavi says, even though the giant furry mass struggling sullenly in her arms has clearly been making some bountiful visits to a whole score of bodegas and delis. Usnavi’s practically staggering under its weight, it’s like half her size. She looks ridiculous, but that’s not unusual for Usnavi. “I’ll be two seconds.”

Usnavi takes the cat out, and takes far more than two seconds to say what is probably a very heartfelt and wordy goodbye to it. Vanessa and Nina wait by the counter. Whatever slight mood lift Vanessa got from angry ranting and Nina being a good friend dies the second she notices the slightly faded bi pride flag sticker on the cash register but she’s not angry now, she’s just tired and bummed out. Nina sees her shoulders slump and nudges her encouragingly. It doesn’t help. Neither does Usnavi coming back in and instantly saying “woah, what’s with the face? Did something happen? Are you okay?”

Vanessa scowls. She hates it when people can read her so easily. Then she realises the scowl probably just makes it all the easier to read her and now she’s not sure which way to take her face so really her whole life’s gone to shit, hasn’t it?

“She’s having a bad day,” Nina supplies on Vanessa’s behalf.

“Aw, damn, wanna talk about it? Bodega owner’s right up there with bartender and shrink for a good listening ear,” Usnavi offers, putting the coffee on without them needing to ask. She rests her chin on her hands on the counter while she waits for it to brew, jumping her thick eyebrows in an inviting _sup, girl,_ _tell me your woes_ way.

“A thousand percent no,” Vanessa says firmly.

“Fair enough,” Usnavi says. “In that case, coffee’s on the house.”

“I don’t need pity, thanks.”

“It’s not pity. I just don’t like seeing you sad,” Usnavi says, and her big brown eyes are so guileless and genuine that Vanessa just ends up accepting the free drink because it’s impossible to refuse Usnavi when she gets that look on her face without feeling like you’ve disappointed all the puppies in Manhattan.

“Thanks, Usnavi,” she mutters.

“Thanks, Usnavi,” Nina echoes.

“Excuse you, who’s the one having a bad day?” Usnavi objects. “Vanessa gets it free, you ain’t get shit, I’m tryna run a business here.”

“What?!” Nina says. “I’m a _good friend all day_ and this is the thanks I get?!"

“You heard her,” Vanessa says, cheering up a little now that she’s getting special treatment at Nina’s expense. Besides, it’s always hard to stay grumpy around Usnavi for long, which honestly is constantly a problem for Vanessa’s image. “It’s Bad Day Coffee, not Good Friend Coffee.”

“But…”

Usnavi scrunches up her nose and sighs and says, with exaggerated reluctance, “half off. That’s my final offer.”

***

Vanessa stops being sad after about two weeks. E ven though she really liked Yolanda, she wasn't in love with her, she'd let her shields down a bit but she hadn't opened her heart or anything. Besides, t here’s better things to do in life than cry over someone who don’t give a shit about you, Vanessa's learned that lesson long ago.

Bitterness, though, she is fully fine with hanging onto until she dies. Sure, her STD screening came back all clear, and she can kinda see Yolanda’s perspective a _little_ bit, but lies are lies, and anyway Vanessa’s never claimed to be a goddamn saint so fuck it, right?

She kinda wants this experience to just put her off women completely so life can get back to normal. But now the floodgates have been opened - no innuendo intended - she can’t stop herself noticing how something in her stomach burns pleasantly at the sight of certain women, in person or on tv or even sometimes just their voice, singers who she’s always thought she wanted to be but now has to constantly recalculate whether that feeling really is just artistic admiration when she thinks about how good their voices sound. She can’t stop noticing how something in her heart starts flickering faint recognition at passing someone in a bi pride t-shirt, at same-sex couples holding hands, at basically anything with a fucking rainbow in it.And there’s way too many things that creep into her thoughts when she’s getting herself off even if she tries really hard to just think about guys, though thankfully none of those things are specifically Yolanda any more.

She goes back to Bar Envy over the next while and tries to hook up with a few girls because like hell is one mildly bad experience going to close her mind to a good time. There’s Nadiya, who’s small and sweet and bouncy. There’s Sian with her chin-length bob of dark hair and impossibly big eyes. There’s Ella with her sun-bright smile. All of them make Vanessa feel something she can’t quantify, a magnetic pull, and something she can quantify (they’re all _hot_ and now Vanessa knows how good sex with a girl can be there’s no forgetting it _)_ but when it comes the point in the night that one of them should suggest going somewhere more private, Vanessa always chickens out and bails.

It doesn’t make sense. The Yolanda aftermath has simmered down to more of an occasional ‘ugh, _her_ ’ if something reminds her. It’s been like two months and Vanessa’s over it, though she’s sure as shit not looking to date anyone else. But casual one-nighters feel wrong with women, and now Vanessa’s just confused about whether she’s doing gay wrong or if she’s being subconsciously sexist or if she never even liked girls in the first place and made the whole thing up just to add some excitement to her life.

Now that Nina’s gone to college, she finds herself talking more often to Usnavi, who doesn’t have a clue that Vanessa’s whatever the hell Vanessa is but who is a very comforting presence anyway. She cuts right through Vanessa’s grumpiness to make her laugh and she makes Vanessa’s coffee perfectly, and it’s nice to know that if Vanessa did come out to her it probably wouldn’t change Usnavi’s opinion about her at all. And she doesn’t seem to mind being asked a thousand questions about being bi.They’re all poorly hidden attempts to mine for understanding on what it means to like more than one gender, but Vanessa’s pretty sure Usnavi must just think she’s straight as hell and hella ignorant.

“So you’ve never even thought about getting something goin’ with Benny?” Vanessa asks one day, when the conversation’s turned towards crushes past.

“ _Ew_ ,” Usnavi says vehemently.

“He’s a good lookin’ guy,” Vanessa points out, and wiggles her eyebrows. “And I hear some very flattering rumors.”

“Yeah, we all hear rumors,” Usnavi mutters, making a _gross_ face. “Wait, why you askin’? Are you into him or something? Uh, because I super don’t have a problem with it if you are. I wouldn’t, um, you know, he’s just a friend, I’m not. Anything. Do what you want among consenting whoevers and whatever, hahaha, I’m chill.”

“… _Are_ you chill?” Vanessa asks, suspiciously. She hadn’t actually thought there was anything between Usnavi and Benny till this very second but Usnavi’s moods are about as subtle as a pickaxe through the eyeball and she’s definitely got a fire up her ass about something right now.

“Mad chill!” Usnavi squawks, then clears her throat. “It’s just, he’s _Benny_ , thinking about that stuff is weird for me, he’s like my brother. And everyone always expects us to be fuckin’, which is annoying. Are…are you into him?”

“No!”

“Oh, _good_ ,” Usnavi says, relieved. “I mean. Not that it would be bad if you were. But…still good that you aren’t. Y’know, because it’d be weird for my friends to date each other and I don’t wanna get stuck in the middle of that.”

Vanessa’s still kinda suspicious but what sort of hypocrite would she be to try and wheedle dating information out of anyone right now? “Okay then. I was just curious. You two are super close and you’re both cute and you’re still into guys, ain’t you?”

“Aaaaghhgh, you think I’m _cute_?” Usnavi says, flailing her arms around in a panic then pulling the collar of her shirt up to hide her face.

“Well, I mean, yeah? I can’t be the first person to tell you that.”

Usnavi shakes her head vigorously like _I can’t even understand what you’re saying to me right now_ , then takes her hat off to fingercomb her messy hair and says, “why haven’t you banged Kevin Rosario yet?”

Vanessa chokes on her coffee. “ _Usnavi!_ What the fuck?! That’s— that's literally the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me, what is your damage?”

“But he’s a dude and you’re into dudes, right?”

“Oh,” Vanessa says. Several little chimes of epiphany go off in her head at once. “Ohhhh! I get it!”

“Yup. And I’m messy enough just being into one person at a time never mind everyone from every gender. When. Um, when I am into a person,” Usnavi says. “You know. Hypothetically. If that happens to be the case.”

“Does it happen to be the case right now?”

“Uh…oh no I dropped all the cups!” Usnavi says, then belatedly drops all the cups about two seconds later. “I should get those.”

***

Usnavi’s extremely smart for the shambling wreck of a girl that she is, and Vanessa tend to trust her wisdom implicitly, so after that conversation she tries to go back to Bar Envy with the understanding that just because she’s not into everyone there doesn’t mean she doesn’t belong. Maybe she’s just pickier about which women she likes. Or maybe it’s because she’s scared of people finding out, for some reason.

She still doesn’t feel right at Envy. She’s less confident about being outwardly unspecified-gay without someone alongside, so it seems like people mostly seem to assume she’s just one of the straight girls who hang out there to dance without any unwanted male attention. Vanessa feels like she belongs even less than they do. At least they know what they are. 

It’s the most frustrating catch-22. Most of the time, all she wants is for people to keep thinking she’s straight until she figures out for sure if she’s something else, so that she can have a definite answer to any questions. It doesn’t make sense that every time that does happen she feels miserable in an indefinable, prickly way.

She runs into Yolanda, once or twice, which was insanely awkward at first but now they’ve progressed to a stage of nodding distantly, a kind of “I don’t care hard enough to ignore you completely any more but I sure as shit don’t wanna talk to you”. She’s careful to only flirt with girls who tell her they’re from out of town. There’s some familiar faces around, but they’ve all been there since the first time she came and seem to stick to the _what happens in Envy_ code _._

It couldn’t last, of course. Vanessa’s at the bar waiting on a margarita and idly scanning the crowd to see if anyone catches her eye when someone does, but not at all in the way she was hoping for: there’s a big puff of shiny reddish-brown curls and a bright pop of colourful dress that instantly screams Hey Carla Is Here!! Vanessa turns away fast then sneaks a glance back to make sure. No doubt about it, that’s Carla.

She throws some cash at the bartender as he hands her drink over, says “keep the change” even though she didn’t check what bills she gave him, and runs.

Stupid. _Goddamn_ fucking idiot stupid goddammit _. S_ he’s known Carla’s gay for like ten fucking years. Vanessa’s never seen her at Envy before, but just because most people keep things DL about who goes there doesn’t mean Carla wouldn't obviously know people who frequent the place. Maybe she already knows.

That makes her feel kind of sick.

It shouldn’t be a problem, Vanessa tries to reason with herself. Better than a straight person she doesn’t trust finding out, right? And Vanessa could just pretend she was there with a friend if worst comes to worst.

She still feels sick, though.

*******

Carla comes into work the next day looking decidedly fragile. Vanessa steels herself to do some damage control.

“Big night?” she enquires, casually. 

Carla flops into one of the salon chairs and takes her sunglasses off to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Wasn’t supposed to be. Me and the girls went Bar Envy - you know, the gay club in Inwood? - and I guess we ended up getting kinda drunk.”

“Sure seems that way,” Vanessa agrees. “You go there often? The club?”

“Every now and then. It’s pretty cool.”

“Lookin’ for a date or somethin’?”

“Nah,” Carla says. “Most everyone there except us are like your age, I don’t date ten years younger than me. Just sometimes its nice to be around people who are the same as you, y’know?”

“Makes sense,” Vanessa says, though she’s not sure she’s felt exactly like that in Envy herself. The important thing is: Carla’s incapable of subterfuge, so if she’s not already said she knows Vanessa goes there, that means she doesn’t know. Phew. 

Vanessa feels suddenly very charitable towards Carla and how picture-book easy it is to read her. “Hey, you want coffee? I’m buyin’.”

“God, please, yes,” Carla says, putting her sunglasses back on and curling up in the chair like she’s about to take a nap. Wouldn’t be the first time.

At the store, Usnavi smiles at her and sings “ _good morning, Vaneeessa”_ and attempts to juggle some paper cups with predictably little success. Vanessa applauds her anyway, for trying.

The bi flag on the register catches Vanessa’s eye like it so often does these days, and gives her that paradox of overexposed and comforted feelings. She wishes she could be as brave as Usnavi to wear it right out in the open.

Shit. Now there’s a point. Would _Usnavi_ have ever gone to Bar Envy? She’s Vanessa’s age, out and proud, she knows half the people Vanessa knew there just from the store. If anyone’s heard anything…

“Make sure that second one is strong,” she says. “Carla’s feeling a little worse for wear. Out at Bar Envy with her lesbian squad last night.”

“Alright for some, huh?”

“You ever go there? You know, with you being. Y’know.”

“You can say bisexual,” Usnavi says dryly. “It’s not a cuss.”

“I know, I know!” Vanessa says, because she can’t exactly explain that she feels awkward about saying it for whole different reasons than Usnavi is probably thinking. “Anyway. I was just wondering.”

“Ain’t got time for clubs, gay or no,” Usnavi says, sprinkling cinnamon into Vanessa’s coffee and sugar into Carla’s. “Never been to one. Here you go.”

Vanessa is relieved, then thinks about that statement. It’s true: even Nina’s taken breaks from studying to have fun. Usnavi has not once come out with them, not even when Benny does. “Wait, never?! You can’t mean _never_.”

Usnavi gives her a look, _are you actually surprised_. “I been running a business since I was seventeen,” she says. “You think I’m gonna open at half six on a hangover? Or dance after bein’ on my feet twelve hours a day?”

“Don’t you have days off?”

“Once in a blue moon, yeah,” Usnavi says. “But, I’m beat, it’s the only chance I get to rest, so that’s nap day, usually.”

She rubs her eyes: she really does looks tired this morning. Usnavi always looks tired.

“You should at least try it,” Vanessa says. “You might have fun."

“Eh. Waitin’ for the right person to ask,” Usnavi says, which sounds like a _can we drop it_ to Vanessa so she does, but it weighs on her mind. Imagine never going out dancing even once. It seems impossibly sad.

***

Vanessa doesn’t go back to Envy after the near-miss Carla incident, too scared that someone might see her. She sticks to the straight clubs, has easy fun with a dude or two. It doesn’t bother her when they leave in the middle of the night, since most of the time it’s because she’s asking them to. She doesn’t wanna wake up with a man in the morning, even if she still finds them hot.

But she thinks about what Carla said, too, about how it’s nice to be around people who are the same as you. Even though she’d never really felt that she belonged at Envy, it was closer than nothing at all.

She’s thinking _maybe I need more LGBT in my life_ on the way to the bodega and, as her luck always has it, seems like she curses it into existence because what does she walk in on but two of her local Ls and Bs: Yolanda is in the store, chatting quietly in Spanish with Usnavi, leaning over the counter way too close. Neither of them see Vanessa standing in the doorway. As she watches, Yolanda reaches out and places her hand over Usnavi’s where its resting on the counter, squeezing gently. Vanessa feels like someone’s poured lava over her head.

She clears her throat and says, “not to interrupt this cute little moment you got going on, but some of us gotta buy coffee before our break's over,” curt and impatient. They both jump.

“Oh,” Usnavi says. “Sorry Vanessa. Didn’t see you, I’ll get on it. Muchas gracias, Yolanda, hasta luego.”

“Cuídate, Usnavi,” Yolanda says. “Adios, Vanessa.”

“ _Hmmm_ ,” Vanessa replies disapprovingly, because she’s exceptionally mature.

Is she seriously jealous of Usnavi flirting with Yolanda? But she’s been over Yolanda for ages, she doesn’t want to get back with her. Still has her on Instagram, because she likes to occasionally indulge in a sort of abstract anger about Yolanda’s general existence but she’s never felt particularly jealous seeing all the pictures of her ever-changing string of model-calibre girlfriends. All of them tall and curvy and perfectly made-up, more polished than Vanessa even on her most dressy day and Vanessa’s no slouch. 

For sure none of the instagirlfriends are anything like Usnavi in her hand-me-down men’s shirts and baggy shorts, her dad’s old hat that sits a little too big over her short fluffy hair. Nothing at all like Usnavi who is short and scruffy and doesn’t ever bother wearing makeup. Though if Vanessa hadn’t known her since they were kids she wouldn’t believe that, because the world is unfair and blessed Usnavi with natural eyelashes that Vanessa couldn’t dream of with all the money and mascara in the world, though it did also bless Usnavi with eyebags from here to Jupiter to balance things out. She pulls _haven’t slept in a month_ off, somehow, which is annoying. She kinda pulls the whole look off, in an _I fell out of Benny’s wardrobe ten years ago and haven’t had time to get changed yet_ way. 

But would _Yolanda_ appreciate any of that? Probably not, so what kinda game is she playing getting all intimate and touchy-feely? She definitely doesn’t deserve someone as sweet as Usnavi.

Oh. So maybe that’s what it is: Vanessa’s known Usnavi for her whole life, seen her go through hell and come back out smiling, seen her give her whole heart away to her family and friends time after time no matter how much it must have hurt her to lose what she’s lost. Even Vanessa got caught up in Yolanda and she’s not nearly as trusting as Usnavi is: she doesn’t want the same thing to happen to someone who leaves all their love on the surface like a stripped-down computer with all the delicate wires and circuits exposed. That’s what it must be, she doesn’t want Usnavi to get hurt.

“You should be careful about her,” Vanessa warns her.

“Hm?” Usnavi asks, distracted.

“Yolanda,” she clarifies. “I ain’t here to tell you who to get your flirt on with but, y’know, I’ve heard Things.”

This isn’t entirely a lie. Yolanda kept her word and never outed Vanessa, which she’s faintly grateful for, but she’s been out a long time herself and apparently didn’t feel enough remorse about their thing to stop dating multiple people at once. Some of them ended very explosively, and Carla moves in some of the same social circles, so there’s plenty of non-Vanessa-centric reference material to go on.

“Yeah, I know, I do hear gossip too,” Usnavi says.  “We weren’t flirting.”

She sounds colder than usual. Vanessa wonders if she’s mad about having their little connection interrupted.  _Well, fuck her then_ , she thinks angrily. Vanessa’s just tryna do a selfless deed here.  “Whatever you say. I’m just sayin’, you looked pretty cosy. You know. With the hand touching. Sure seems like something was going on to me.”

“What’s it to you who I flirt with anyway?” Usnavi snaps. Vanessa leans back in shock and Usnavi sighs. “Sorry. It’s a bad day. Week. I was feeling shitty, she was being nice, that’s all. It doesn’t matter. You wanted coffee?” 

Someone comes in at the front, the bell jingling. The cold shiver of winter air swirls around Vanessa’s arms and then straight into her brain where it circles a date on a little imaginary calendar and informs her that she’s a terrible person.

“It’s December tomorrow,” she says.

“Yup,” Usnavi says flatly, her back turned as she fiddles with the coffee pot.

“Oh, _Usnavi_ ,” she says. “I didn’t realize—I’m sorry, I thought…I’m so sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Usnavi says. “It’s just a day, ain’t it? They’re no less dead in spring or summer than they are tomorrow, it don’t matter, it don’t make a difference what day it happened.”

She pours the coffee, unsteady. Some of it spills over the side, and it must drip onto Usnavi’s hand because she hisses but doesn’t make a move to run it under water, just brings it up to her mouth with her back still turned to Vanessa, unnaturally still and silent until she makes a stifled hiccupy noise.

_Oh,_ ** _god_** , Vanessa realises, with legitimate terror. _Usnavi is_ ** _crying_** _. What do I do?!_

Shit. Okay. Abuela is probably in her apartment next door. She always knows what to do when anyone’s sad, and she knows Usnavi better than anyone. Vanessa could just — but she imagines walking out the door and leaving Usnavi crying alone for even the two minutes it would take to get Abuela, and it’s obviously unacceptable, so instead she does what needs to be done, and climbs over the counter to turn Usnavi round towards her and bring her into a hug. Usnavi breaks instantly.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, clinging onto Vanessa tightly. “This isn’t very, y’know, professional workplace environment of me.”

“Sssh,” Vanessa says, takes Usnavi’s hat off and lays it on the worktop beside them so she can bury her fingers in her hair. She’s so small, barely up to Vanessa’s shoulder, and she’s so _sad_. It makes Vanessa feel something so loud and strong that she doesn’t know how to define it, except that it sort of makes her want to smash a window or something, even though that wouldn’t help, especially not since they’re in Usnavi’s bodega and it’d just mean more work for her. “Ssh, it’s okay, I got you.”

She holds Usnavi and finds herself swaying them both gently, until the customer who came in earlier sidles awkwardly up to the counter and sets a few things down.

“Uh,” he says. “Um, sorry, but could I get a packet of—“

“For real?” Vanessa says incredulously, still stroking Usnavi’s hair. “Read the fuckin’ room, dude.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I just needed—“

“I said beat it!”

“Are you scaring my customers away?” Usnavi asks with a hysterical laugh, muffled against Vanessa’s shoulder as the guy scurries out of the store.

“Only the ones who deserve it,” Vanessa says. Something compels her to kiss the top Usnavi’s head gently, which she only meant as a platonic comfort but it occurs to her a second too late that it might be overstepping some kind of line. She’s not sure what she’s doing, here. Anything to let Usnavi know she’s not alone.

Usnavi either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind, and gets herself under control pretty quickly. She’s probably used to this happening, after five years of living with it. “Okay,” she says, pulling back and wiping her face with her shirt. Her hair is all mussed up from where Vanessa was playing with it. ”Okay, I’m okay, I’m better now. Sorry. Thanks.”

“Any time”, Vanessa says, uncomfortable. She points at Usnavi’s head. “You might wanna, I kinda messed your hair up.”

“It’s always like that anyway,” Usnavi says, cramming her hat on. “Been meaning to come round and get it cut but I never seem to find the time to book in.”

For some reason, Vanessa thinks about Usnavi saying she never had time to go out dancing, and that burning protective anger hums in her heart again. She doesn’t even have time for a haircut? Fuck that, that’s not okay. Vanessa’s been through some stuff in her life, not the same kinda stuff, but something she realised a few years back is that the moments she takes for herself are vital for her to not lose her fucking mind while she’s still stuck living in her mom’s apartment and propping up her mom’s life. Vanessa likes to dress up pretty even on a very tight budget, likes to make sure that her hair’s taken care of even if she’s not going anywhere, likes the slow ritual of putting on makeup ready for a night out. It’s not vanity: it’s something that reminds her she’s worthy of care, even when nobody else is around to give it to her.

Who is Usnavi outside the store? She doesn’t go out to the club, doesn’t pamper herself, doesn’t seem to do anything but work and work to keep up the memory of what she’s lost forever, and to earn enough to fly back to where they came from. Vanessa knows Usnavi is loved deeply by a whole lot of people round here, and that Usnavi isn’t bothered about clothes, doesn’t have the energy or desire to wear makeup. But she still deserves to take a few moments to remind herself that she’s more than just the bodega girl.

“Come round once you close tonight,” Vanessa says. “We’ll keep the salon open a little later for you.”

“Wh—really? You don’t have to do that for me,” Usnavi protests, twisting one of her shirt buttons. “It’s just hair, I’ll cut it myself if it gets—“

“No you goddamn won’t,” Vanessa says. “With your shaky hands? Last time Dani had to fix your _I’ll cut it myself_ she said that if she didn’t know better she woulda assumed you tried to use the scissors with your feet.”

“Ow. Accurate, and so harsh. But Vanessa, I don—“

“If you say _I don’t know_ I’ll fight you right here. Come on, let me fix you up, I’ll make you look so good even the straight girls will go wild for you.“

“…Huh,” Usnavi says. “Do you really think girls would like it if I did something with my hair?”

Vanessa’s heart sinks. Maybe she really wasn’t off the mark thinking Usnavi and Yolanda were flirting: Usnavi looks way too thoughtful now. But she still wants to do something nice for her and if Usnavi wants to make a big dumb mistake with some skank afterwards that’s no damn business of Vanessa’s, so she just says, “for sure. Come round later. Bring me coffee.”

“I will,” Usnavi says, smiling at her. Vanessa’s so relieved to see her looking happy that she totally forgets she went to the store for a reason, and leaves empty-handed with her brain burbling incomprehensibly.

***

“No chance,” Dani says, when Vanessa asks if they can stay open later tonight. “I have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a bubble bath with my name on it and they will both be very sad if I am late home tonight.”

“So you don’t have to stay! I’ll close up on my own. I’ve done it enough times.”

“Hmmm. And who is this that we’re giving such extra-special treatment to?”

“Just a friend.”

“Just a friend, she tells me! Mi chica, even friends can bleed you dry if you don’t set clear boundaries."

"But  _Dani--"_

"No. That is my final answer.”

“It’s for Usnavi, okay?” Vanessa says reluctantly. She doesn’t know why, but she woulda rather not have told Dani who it was. “I went to the store earlier and, and she said how she never has time to get an appointment and it’s December first tomorrow, so I thought…”

“Oh,” Dani says, her face softening. “Say no more, of course you can stay open. Anything for Usnavi.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, you're the best!” Vanessa says. “She just seemed so sad, I wanted to cheer her up.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” says Dani, which would be fine except she says it in like, a Voice. 

Vanessa frowns. “What, you don’t think I can do nice things for people?”

“Did I say that? I don’t remember saying anything like that.”

“Well, what the hell does _I’m sure you did_ mean, then?”

“It means that I’m sure you did,” Dani says. She brushes past Vanessa, bumping their shoulders together. “Now stop wasting time and get back to work.”

“Dani? Dani, but what did it _mean_?!”

***

Usnavi, as requested, does bring coffee for herself and for Vanessa, and they both take a sitting breather to drink it while Dani grills Vanessa on how to make sure everything is switched off and all that boring shit.

“Dan _iii_ , I know this, I’ve been working here for like four years.”

“So what does it say about you that I still have to tell you everything a thousand times? You got it all?”

“I got it, I got it. Leave the door wide open with all the cash on the floor then light some candles near all the aerosols and leave them unattended, right?” 

“You are the bane of my life and a nightmare child,” Dani tells her. She points ferociously at Vanessa and then kisses Usnavi on the forehead. “Buenas noches, linda. Come round if you need anything at all tomorrow, you hear me?”

“I hear ya,” Usnavi says. “I’ll make sure Vanessa don’t torch the place while we’re here.”

“What does it take to get some respect around here?” Vanessa grumbles as Dani leaves. “Come on, you ungrateful shit, let’s wash your hair and make you look like a person again.”

Usnavi settles into the chair by the sink while Vanessa lets the water get warm, and sighs contentedly once Vanessa tips her head back and runs the water over her hair.

“Temperature okay?”

“S’good,” Usnavi says, closing her eyes. “Look, I really appreciate this, Vanessa. I was…and tomorrow is…it’s all just so many things.”

“I know,” Vanessa says, scritching her fingers across Usnavi’s scalp and enjoying the little noise that she gets in response. “You know I’ll do this any time if you just give me a call, right?”

“I ain’t too fussy about regular cuts, hair’s just hair. It’s only once my bangs start getting in my eyes I got a problem.”

“It’s not about how you look. You gotta take a breather and look after yourself else you’re gonna go crazy.”

“I manage.”

“Well,” Vanessa says sternly. “Sometimes it’s nice to do more than just manage, ain't it?”

“…Yeah,” Usnavi says. “Yeah, sometimes it’s nice.”

She’s unusually quiet after that, and Vanessa figures she’s maybe just feeling a little down so she lets her be while she shampoos her hair and rinses. It’s not till she says “gonna condition now” and gets no response that she realises Usnavi’s fallen full on asleep right there with her head over the sink.

They had coffee like fifteen minutes ago. Only Usnavi, huh?

Since nobody’s there to see, Vanessa allows herself a fond smile for an indulgent five seconds. She draws out the conditioning as long as she can, reluctant to wake Usnavi, but napping in that position is cruising for a fucked-up neck so once she’s finished she shakes Usnavi gently and says “can’t stay here all night, honey, time for the haircut.”

“Whuh? Oh, mierda, sorry,” Usnavi murmurs, pulling herself to her feet and wobbling sleepily. Vanessa steadies her by the shoulders. “Been a long day.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” Usnavi says. If Vanessa were a better person she wouldn’t feel so relieved, but she’s not, so she does. What would she know about what Usnavi’s feeling? What would she be able to say to make it less painful?

“Alright,” she says, putting the cape around Usnavi’s shoulders and tousling her hair in her fingers. “What look are we going for this time?”

“Fuckin’…get rid of it all, I don’t even care,” Usnavi says. “More trouble than it’s worth.”

“I will if you actually want me to, but that’s a pretty dramatic aesthetic.”

“Mmm, maybe not, then. Just the usual.”

Things go quiet again. That’s unusual in the salon. Even Vanessa with her infamous lack of patience for ninety percent of all things that people do and say knows how to keep the chair talk flowing, it’s part of the skillset for the job, and god knows normally Usnavi can talk both your ears and half your face off with very little prompting.

But something feels so soft and fragile about this and it leaves Vanessa at a loss for words. Maybe because there’s only one row of lights directly around them that are lit while everything else is dark so it feels so much smaller and closer in here. Maybe it’s how Usnavi was napping earlier while Vanessa washed her hair and how unexpectedly vulnerable it made Vanessa feel even though she’s the one who was wide awake. Maybe it’s the weight of knowing what tomorrow means for Usnavi. Or how much Vanessa kinda just wants to tell her everything that’s been going on with her because Usnavi’s opinion always seems to help. Or something else entirely, who the fuck knows.

It’s a silence that’s so comfortable and pleasant it’s actually starting to make Vanessa hugely uncomfortable. Stopping halfway through a haircut to turn the radio on would just draw attention to it, so she does the next best thing and sings quietly, a lyricless little improv-melody of any note that feels like it belongs. She’s never been self-conscious about singing in front of people. 

“Man, I just love hearing you sing. You have such a beautiful voice,” Usnavi says dreamily, then turns bright pink and makes a series of untranscribable stammering noises that sound like someone dropping a box full of Lego down the stairs.

“I know,” Vanessa says. “Requests?”

“Anything you feel like. Want me to drop a beat?”

“Only if you’re not gonna get too into it and jiggle around while I'm working,” Vanessa says, because she knows Usnavi too well. “It’ll look real bad on me if I stab you in the head with a pair of scissors after hours with no witnesses.”

“I’ll keep it basic.” She picks up a very simple kickdrum-snare-hihat loop, adjusts tempo to fit once Vanessa starts singing again, and they keep it soundtracking till Vanessa’s finished.

“There,” she says, tugging both sides of the short bob down around Usnavi’s chin to make sure everything’s symmetrical. “You’re done.”

“Oh, already?” Usnavi says, even though Vanessa definitely took her sweet time with it and probably coulda been finished half an hour ago if she hadn’t wanted to make sure it was totally perfect. “Aw, hell yeah, lookin’ good. How much do I owe you?”

“Bad day rate,” Vanessa says. “It’s on the house.”

“Woah, are you—“

“Yes, I’m sure, just say thanks and don’t make it into a whole fucking broadway production, okay?” Vanessa only really needs to pay for the hair products out her own pocket, and she doesn’t mind giving away the extra time for this. It didn’t feel like work, anyway.

“Okay. Thanks for the haircut,” Usnavi says, taking her hat when Vanessa hands it to her but not putting it on. She rubs her thumb over one of the light grey stripes running across it, and then her voice goes all _meaningful_ when she says _“_ and…thank you, Vanessa.”

“For what?” Vanessa says dismissively, because saying _you’re welcome_ or _you’ve done the same for me a thousand times_ or _I’m glad I could make you feel better_ would make the moment way more sincere than she can currently cope with.

“For all of this,” Usnavi answers.

“…Mmmhm,” Vanessa says, and distracts herself with unnecessary last minute messing around with Usnavi’s bangs until she’s really got no reason to keep her there any longer. “Okay, go on, scram. Go break some hearts now I’ve got you lookin’ so super hot and whatnot.”

“Aaahahahahaha,” Usnavi says, and then runs away. 

She’s so weird. And Vanessa’s smiling so much, which is dumb.

“This was a very normal haircut,” she says to herself, severely.

***

Vanessa closes up, goes home, makes dinner for herself and her mom, who she barely even acknowledges through the haze that’s fogging over her mind. All evening she keeps thinking about unimportant little things over and over though there’s nothing there to dwell on: the soft sound of her scissors, Usnavi’s beatboxing, the smell of the salon-quality conditioner she knows Usnavi usually prefers but would never dream of buying for herself because it’s too expensive.

In the morning she wakes up still thinking about Usnavi’s hair and voice and eyes, and about Usnavi falling asleep in the chair under Vanessa’s hands. It feels private and good and undefinable. It feels…it feels pink, purple, blue.

Vanessa bolts upright in bed, alarmed.

“Oh, you have got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” she says.

**Author's Note:**

> [pls comment if you liked it! also i hope i pronouned consistently for girlsnavi, i'm so used to writing dudesnavi that i might have slipped once or twice so if you spot one let me know.]


End file.
